


All the Small Things

by letterfromathief



Series: all the small things [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letterfromathief/pseuds/letterfromathief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Always, I know, you’ll be at my show. Watching, waiting, commiserating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Small Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [niniadepapa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/gifts).



> This is Red Captain Swan Huntsman for niniadepapa, where they are all Professors at a community college. Thanks to emmasneverland and elaric who read parts of this months ago and told me it didn't completely suck.

**_Graham_ **

They’re sort of like the Breakfast Club.

In Ruby’s words, laughed out over an afternoon spent grading papers in the dingy Teacher’s Lounge. “Office of Academic Respite” used to be engraved on the door in fading letters until an enterprising student took the opportunity to fill in the missing letters, and no one had bothered to change it because they all agreed; the room truly did _reek_ of desperation.

“Hook’s obviously the Princess, then,” Graham had replied with a grin only Ruby could see behind the second (only the second, amazingly) paper typed in 14pt green font. Usually the conflation of his “Irish allure” and St. Patrick’s Day falling on the day before papers were due resulted in _way_ more colorful transgressions against the MBA format – and much more glitter.

“I’m the Princess, mate? Really?”

Graham lowered his paper just enough to see Killian’s wide-eyed incredulity and vigorous pointing at Emma and Ruby like Graham _hadn’t_ considered them.

True enough. He hadn’t, not when Killian was such a clear choice.

His silence must have spoken volumes because Killian dropped his pointing – smart move because Ruby looked like she was only seconds away from biting his finger off.

“Me? Intercollegiate boxing champion with the unstoppable left hook? _I’m_ the princess?”

Emma’s sharp snort cut through Killian’s blustering. “The fact that you insist on calling yourself ‘Captain Hook’ is _exactly_ why you’re the princess.”

He couldn’t stop himself from nodding his agreement, nor did he want to. Ruby seemed of the same mind as she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

Killian, to his credit, twisted his frown up into a grin. “Can’t argue with that.”

The only one who didn’t seem amused was Emma – he noticed the half red-marked paper crimped into an arc by her grip on the pages, but Ruby made her way over to the stove first and already had the water heating by the time Graham was on his feet.  

Over-dramatic _princess_ , as always, Killian heaved a sigh. “Well, obviously, _I_ could – but the Princess _does_ end up with the Criminal, and why would I complain about being wooed by you?”

“There’s our athlete!” Killian cheered when Graham caught the stress ball Emma lobbed with near deadly precision at Killian’s head.

He never really understood why this always seemed to work. Emma laughed, tension gone long before Graham’s hand stopped smarting. _Athlete indeed_.

“That leaves me as the crazy one, then,” Ruby said, somehow easily cradling three cups of perfectly prepared hot cocoas in her hands and setting them down on the table without spilling a drop. A Herculean feat.

“You survived roaming five separate countries with no money whatsoever. You’re obviously the Brain – _nerd_ – fu-”

They probably shouldn’t have laughed when Emma nearly choked trying to sip her hot cocoa and tease Ruby at the same time. Especially since there were only so many places to hide in their shared house – and zero of those were places Emma couldn’t break into with ease.

But, well, it was pretty damn funny.

“You’ve got a little –“

It was a good thing it was only whipped cream that ended up splashed across their papers, their hair, and inexplicably, down the back of Killian’s jeans – something he should probably feel a bit more mortified about knowing _so_ intimately, but Killian _always_ took Graham’s open door as an invitation to traumatize. Graham was, as Emma put it so often, _out of fucks to give_.

If any of his students noticed that their papers smelled a bit like processed dairy when he handed them back, none of them said anything.

And if their Breakfast Club was off a member, well, Graham knew that was because they were _all_ the Basket Case.

\---

**_Ruby_ **

The great thing about Ruby’s office hours was that they were not at the same time as any of the club’s classes or meetings.

Which meant that when Ruby craved a really greasy burger and fries from the grandma diner across the way –

> She always had a soft spot for those (sentimentality being a strength of hers) even when the “Granny” behind the counter would give her the same look that Granny did when Ruby would walk in with another red streak in her hair and her skirt hiked another inch higher – or that one time the dye job went wrong and her hair turned bubblegum pink and stayed that way for a month.
> 
> Especially when they looked at her like Granny did when Ruby walked in after a year spent on the other side of the planet with no communication but a stolen postcard sent here and there.
> 
> (Some of the Granny’s were big on hugging, even Granny herself from time to time.)

– just before her 2pm hours started, she could call up Killian and after a couple minutes of flirtatious teasing, he’d agree to bring her some.

Or

She could call Graham and trade bad jokes and complaints about the student work ranging from bad, terrible, to out of this world, so crazy even Emma with the Psy.D from NYU couldn’t diagnose – and then, when silence spilled out between them, he’d sigh and say, “Cheeseburger deluxe, hold the pickles?” and she’d always laugh. Always, always.

Or (and this was her favorite)

She could text Emma, a little winking smiley and a caps-locked “please,” and if Emma was free, she’d text back a simple “OK” and in no time at all, she’d stroll through Ruby’s door with Ruby’s burger and two large fries, one for Ruby and one for herself.

Most days, Emma would chastise her for the burger – “I mean, come on, Ruby, Don’s is better and it isn’t made of pure fat.” And Ruby would swallow half the burger in one bite just to make Emma do that scrunched up face that was impossibly cute – even when her mouth was open around a half-eaten French fry.

But some days, Emma wouldn’t stay to chat. She’d just drop off the food on her way to an impromptu meeting with a student, but she’d always make sure to drop a kiss on Ruby’s forehead before she left – and sometimes, the better times, Ruby would tilt her head up and Emma would miss and the kiss would land on Ruby’s lips instead. The blush that burned a bright red swath down beneath the fabric of Emma’s shirt was worth it.

The intentional kiss Emma planted after that, even more so.

                                                                                                                                                                    

\---

**_Killian_ **

As usual during after his Saturday workouts, Killian would check in on everyone before heading to do work. It wasn’t laziness as Emma would tease, but merely a habit he’d acquired and unlike most of his “acquired habits,” it didn’t bite him in the ass.

So, every Saturday, he kept the ritual and made his way down the hall to his room. Emma was the first door on the left and it was always open.

An outsider looking in might watch her for a day and think it was because she was too lazy to close it after grabbing a snack from the kitchen. Or that she knew that it wouldn’t stay closed for long with Ruby home and eager to marathon nature documentaries while they tweaked their lesson plans. Or, more simply, that she just wasn’t bothered about her privacy.

They would be wrong either way, though Killian would never tell them that. Privacy was never anything she ever had before this house in Maine.

There were the foster homes that Emma would sometimes share stories about, usually when Killian would complain about a student in his Communications 11 class who was a little _too_ communicative and she would take that as a challenge to tell him why it could be _so much_ worse.

There were the stolen cars she hopped to and from, something they all knew too well about freezing in the backseats of and hoping no one would pay attention to them parked behind that supermarket or that rundown building while they caught a few hours sleep.

There were the 11 months spent in a prison in Phoenix, her every move watched, controlled, _judged_ almost as bad as the looks she used to get in school when everyone was wearing the new Air Jordan’s and talking about their favorite cartoons and video games and she only just then was able to get the Sorcerer’s Stone, a battered copy that had been passed from foster kid to foster kid and showed it in the cracked spine and crumb dusted pages. She wrote about this once, for one of Graham’s English 32 prompts that he always taped to the refrigerator door for their “honest – and no, Killian, _not_ _that_ – opinions.” Signed it, “good prompt,” and taped it beside the prompt. Emma didn’t say a word about it when they all crowded in her room later that evening to read aloud Sorcerer’s Stone. Though a week later while waiting for Graham to bring the car around after a late dinner at Don’s, she’d confided to him and Ruby that she sometimes wished she’d kept that copy, but that then she’d always remember the look on the younger girl’s face when Emma handed it to her and just wish she’d had more than one to give away.

There was probation after prison and weekly check-ins with the officer that for once didn’t look at her like he’d rather look right through her instead, which turned from weekly home visits to daily morning coffees and weekend library visits with Officer Nolan, _David_ , and his wife Mary Margaret while they helped her get her GED and then her associates, and finally that Psy.D she let Graham nail over her bed with the promise that it wouldn’t crash and kill her in her sleep. “Leave Ruby’s night prowls for that one,” he’d said and Ruby had done her best imitation wolf howl until Killian bowled over Emma’s bed, shaking in laughter.

Killian knew that Emma’s privacy was one of her most carefully guarded treasures, and saw her open door for the blessing it really was.

Still, this day, he only nodded at her lounging form and walked by her open door and past Ruby’s closed one. She may have traded the red streaks in her hair for a faculty position, but as Killian liked to say, mock-sagely during Saturday mornings when Ruby dragged herself to the kitchen table looking like she fought the world and won, but only just barely, “You can take the girl out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of the girl.” Her door would probably be shut until he made dinner or Emma felt like going out for a run.

He stopped at Graham’s open door, his favorite invitation. Graham was seated at his desk facing the wall with headphones on and typing away, so Killian made himself comfortable on Graham’s bed. He grabbed Graham’s latest convenience store novel off his end table and started to read, and it only took minutes for him to fall asleep.

He woke up as he always did, with Graham staring down at him in exasperation. Killian lazily scratched the skin of his stomach where his shirt rode up and smiled sleepily at Graham.

“We’ve talked about this, mate. You shouldn’t lose yourself in your writing, you never know what could happen around you.”

“Or what kind of creature I might find in my bed.”

“Your favorite kind!” Killian said, stretching his arms out and claiming more of Graham’s bed.

“Truly? Because I recall you and I both saying different when I was still Sheriff and I had you in the drunk tank.”

With one arm he pushed Killian to the side and laid down beside him. He closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Killian took a moment to remember _Sheriff_ Graham, with his eye blooming dark purple around the edges from the punch thrown by a _very_ drunk Killian the night before and his lips pursed together much the same as they are now. Then, Killian had steadfastly refused to explain himself and despite everything that should’ve happened, had not ended up with any charges on his record or the loss of his scholarship. If he’d reached out then as he did now to rub his thumb across the corner of Graham’s mouth, he probably wouldn’t have done anything but deepen Graham’s frown and earned a well-deserved punch as well.

“Well, things change, don’t they?” Killian replied as Graham’s mouth tilted upwards in a very familiar smile.

Graham laughed and pushed his hand away so he could roll over and curl up around the pillow. Muffled by the pillow in his mouth, he said with distinct amusement anyway, “Ask me in another 8 years.”

\---

**_Emma_ **

It wasn’t a rare occasion that they were all home at the same time. Emma called that a weekend or a Wednesday afternoon.

Nor was it rare that they all ended up in Killian’s room. He had the biggest bed, for one, so they could all actually watch the TV at the same time, which was good when they wanted to completely ruin Emma and Killian’s movie watching experience.

And neither was this rare, her legs spread to either side of her and Graham’s tongue flicking her clit in a steady rhythm that had her head spinning and her body thrumming in rhythm to the sound of Killian’s panting as Ruby rode him.

It was a weekend after all, and it was hard enough to resist their kisses on a school day, let alone when the college was closed on Monday and they had a 3 day weekend to do whatever they want – “whoever we want,” Graham would joke, badly, if his head wasn’t between her legs and Emma’s hand wasn’t fisted in his hair, encouraging him faster, more –

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she breathed out, her chest heaving.

She released Graham’s hair to wipe the sweat from her forehead. He pulled away, and she took that moment to roll onto her side. Her body was still tingling with her orgasm, so when Graham kissed her and then eyed Killian and Ruby with hunger, she merely shooed him towards them.

Emma rose up on her elbow to watch as Ruby changed positions so she was seated on Killian’s cock facing away from him and towards Graham instead who was already kissing Ruby.

Emma grinned. Graham always did have an oral fixation. Though, she wouldn’t mention it again. The last time he had stubbornly refused to kiss them for a week, and Emma doubted any of them could go with that shortage.

Emma’s eyes lost focus trying to take everything in – Ruby, practically sashaying in Killian’s lap, and Killian’s hands tight on her waist, still wearing his damn rings because he knew how Ruby liked the feeling. Graham lost no time in kissing every inch of Ruby’s skin and Emma felt the ghost of his mouth on her as he sucked one of Ruby’s nipples into his mouth. They gasped at the same time, her and Ruby.

Yet, Emma just watched, despite the involuntary way her legs squeezed together as Graham moved even lower and lingered on the patch of skin just below Ruby’s belly button.

Still she watched when Graham’s head disappeared between Ruby and Killian’s legs, and she may have been clutching the sheet tightly but she was doing a hell of a lot better than Killian whose hips were stuttering beneath Ruby and Graham’s combined touch.

Well – she _was_ doing better until she released the sheet to slide her hand to her clit and Killian chose that same moment to buck wild enough that a slip and a bang later, Emma was on the floor.

Now, _this_ was a rare occasion. She jumped to her feet before Graham could reach her. Silence followed in which they all stared at each other and then Graham said, quietly, “Seems like the princess can’t control himself, as usual.”

The laughter bubbled up in her chest and echoed everyone else until that was all she felt, giddy, dumb laughter and not her bumped elbow or the arousal this sight would usually have brought.

Tears in her eyes, she said, “What a _nerd._ ”

Killian’s sputtering only made her laugh harder, and the rarity of the moment was gone, just another lazy Sunday, but the warmth remained, as it always did with them.


End file.
